


Songs that mourn

by Astrodraconic (CelestialKnight)



Series: Songs series [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Gen, Ishvalan AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialKnight/pseuds/Astrodraconic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the war came the injured and with the injured came the need for doctors. The only closest doctors happened to be the Rockbells, and they were sent out to help those in need. They all watched from different perspectives as the Rockbells made their way to the train station, a train departed for Ishval. It was the last time they would all see them alive, well and breathing, for the next would be a few years from now within closed caskets, too disfigured to show to the public. Winry would not leave her room for the next week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs that mourn

**Author's Note:**

> once again some slight differences, i thought in 09 the Rockbells died before Trisha?? i was wrong?? i blame me rewatching 03 for that, but anyway i wrote a heart-wrenching scene and u will deal with that. So timeline now is Ishval war: 1902-1909, Rockbells deaths: 1904 Trisha’s death: 1906. Than the timeline goes back to normal.

One day while exploring the house and humming random tunes, they discovered alchemy. It was complicated to read for Rida, as Rida wasn’t fluent enough in Amestrian to understand, but Omid made up for it in spades. For what Omid didn’t understand of the scientific theory of alchemy, Rida was able to supply what Omid lacked. It took a few days, but they were finally able to transmute something. They immediately showed it off to their mother, who they had never seen so much light in her eyes before. She was not just proud, but happy as well. Even happier than when they sang and danced and learned about Ishvalan culture and it’s language after school. Rida and Omid found their calling, and it’s name was alchemy. **  
**

They began to immerse themselves in it far more than the times they spent singing and dancing with their mom, as they became far and fewer between for some reason. They practiced in various ways, making small gifts for Winry, who feared the practice at first. Their mother even opened up their father’s study for them to practice more, with the promise of ‘Rida practicing his Amestrian more and Omid his Ishvalan’ which they accepted without much say to, to absorbed by the number of books they could immerse themselves in.

In between reading, they would take breaks and help their mother, sometimes even practice drumming, singing and dancing with her. On days they couldn’t do that, Omid would stay home waiting for both Winry and Rida to return from school. Omid often stayed home like this, helping his mother around the house with household chores such as laundry, picking fruits and vegetables and going to the market with her. He often didn’t like going to the market though, as he would get looked at bizarrely. Omid never understood as to why it was only him, and it often hurt his heart. Trisha would take her son and treat him to affection and sometimes books that he would end up sharing with Rida. Sometimes Trisha would cover his ears as they walked, he never really understood at the time.

With the war came the injured and with the injured came the need for doctors. The only closest doctors happened to be the Rockbells, and they were sent out to help those in need. They all watched from different perspectives as the Rockbells made their way to the train station, a train departed for Ishval. It was the last time they would all see them alive, well and breathing, for the next would be a few years from now within closed caskets, too disfigured to show to the public. Winry would not leave her room for the next week.

When they heard to the news when they visited the Rockbells, Rida began to talk about how they could bring her parents back with a homunculi, but was quickly told off by Granny Pinako, who would hear no such thing in her household. Alchemy was not a be all end all solution to the world’s problems. When they left, they clung to their mother first thing, unable to even imagine a life where she was gone. She took them into a hug and silenced away their tears.

They would often wait for Winry outside the front step when they needed to leave for school, but she would not come. Not the first day, not the second day, nor the third fourth or fifth. On the sixth day, Rida decided to grab his tambourine. He told Omid to follow him, and Trisha, knowing what her two boys would be up to, brought along a drum. If Rida could not ease the pain with the idea of creating a homunculi, there were other methods to ease the pain of grieving. Rida stationed below Winry’s window, which so happened to be on the second floor, and began to tap on the tambourine, soft words escaping his lips as he moved to a somber beat. Instead of the typical Ishvalan they sang in together, they sang in Amestrian, Omid’s voice as clear as day as he tapped on the drums while Rida’s held an accent as he sang out the words.

Winry peeked her head out the window when she began to hear a melody playing from afar, she looked around, her eyes red and puffy from days of crying, the light that hit her making her dizzy. She heard the words that reached her ears, and looked down to see the Elrics. She raised an eyebrow to them.

“What are you doing?” She called out to them, the tune stopped suddenly, as both Rida and Omid looked up to the blonde haired girl.

“We’re singing a song of mourning!” Called out Omid from where he sat next to his drum, “Mom says that losing someone is hard, and these songs exist to help people through those hard times, and we wanted to share that with you.”

“You’ve been in your room all week.” It was Rida this time, he seemed worried, something Winry saw so rarely on his face, “I… We’ve been worried about you.” Winry smiled to both of them.

“Thank you.” she said graciously. Both boys smiled to her.

“Now get your gear head down here! We brought an extra tambourine for you!” Rida raised up the small clanky object, Winry looked to him perplexed.

“I don’t even know how to dance or sing!”

“We’ll show you!” Omid’s response was hearty. Winry sighed, she was glad these two were her friends, trying their best to help her grieve in her time of need. She gave out an ‘okay’ before closing her window and making her way down the stairs. Pinako greeted her, saying it was good to see her up again. Both of their eyes held pain, and Winry nodded her head. She made her way out the front porch and avoided Den by a hair. The dog barked, but she made nothing of it, joining her two friends, no, her family, in the grass of her front lawn. She examined Rida, who slowly explained the steps and the movements, while Alphonse sang the words and played his beats. Once Winry felt like she understood, she sang, and she sang, and she sang her own words, her own feelings. This wouldn’t bring her parents back, but could ease the pain.

Pinako watched from the porch, allowing herself to be seated as she remembered her son and his wife, the times when he was a young child, when he was a teenager, and than when he was an adult making his own life. Alchemy wouldn’t bring them back, nor would this song, but the sounds to her made her feel like they were still here. She didn’t notice Trisha walk up to the porch and sit herself beside Pinako.

“Loss is hard, the loss of a child ten times so, but you son and daughter-in-law are both still here,” she gestured to her heart. Pinako nodded her head. She noted Trisha coughing lightly.

“I hope your boys know they can’t bring the dead back to life.” Pinako spoke suddenly between the sombre sounds of the children’s voices and the melody that intertwined them. Trisha frowned as she clutched her hands together tightly.

“I hope so too.” Pinako looked up to Trisha to note the pained look in her eyes, as if there was one thing she regretted above all else. Pinako looked back to her grandchild and her pseudo grandchildren. Winry looked so much like her mother and father. It would be a constant reminder. Rida, dancing alongside Winry, looked a bit more like his father, her old drinking buddy Van Hohenheim, but with still some resemblance to his mother. His darker skin alluded to her own Ishvalan heritage, but to that of Hohenheim as well. He didn’t have the same golden hair as Hohenheim’s but was rather close. It had a whiter shade to it, but his eyes were that of his father’s, although with a slightly more orange hue. His brother, Omid, could easily be the spitting image of his mother, apart from his hair, which was not chestnut brown like her own. Red eyes, dark skin, darker than Rida’s, and platinum blonde hair. He found himself the target of incessant discriminatory remarks. She considered the two boys her own grandchildren, despite it all.

“I’ll keep an eye on them for you.” She said offhandedly. Trisha was taken aback from slight surprise, before having it replaced with gratitude. Pinako made nothing of it. These boys were just as much as her own.

They stayed like this, late into the night, singing and dancing, quickly changing to other things such as teaching Winry a few Ishvalan words, while Omid and Winry did the same for Rida, but in Amestrian. Later in the night, as Rida and Omid ran after Den, Winry approached Trisha who had been helping Pinako prepare supper. She seemed rather nervous, as she hid her hands behind her back and held a bashful expression.

“Is… Is it alright if I join Rida and Omid to learn about Ishvalan culture? T-the singing helped me and I thought m-maybe…” There was no need to say more. Trisha nodded her head, and a large smile lit up on Winry’s face. “Thank you!” She hugged Trisha tightly before running back outside to her two friends, yelling out the news which they took with cheers. Trisha smiled fondly at the sight.

The next class they held, three seats were placed in the small room in the Elric household, where pictures of family and friends and books in a foreign language laid, Winry Rockbell attempted to find comfort with friends, and just that she did. She immersed herself into two things, automail engineering and learning about Ishval with her two friends. She did so with passion and interest, picking both skills, automail engineering and the Ishvalan language, quickly. While the way she spoke resembled that of when Rida first began speaking Amestrian, she understood certain basics and began to clasp on and enunciate with ease. The three children would spend a few years like this, learning with Trisha and speaking to each other in Ishvalan when they wanted no one else to hear. It was their secret, and they rather enjoyed it. Trisha would praise them, as they were such quick learners.

Some days they would catch Trisha heartbroken over letters and attempt to ask her what was wrong, but she quickly wiped away her tears and began the lessons as if there were no problems whatsoever. When they were able to read one of the letters, they felt their hearts stop, and would no longer speak of them again. They wouldn’t bother Trisha when they caught her reading one, and Trisha quickly caught on to the fact that they sneaked a peek at the letters she was receiving.

“Is… Is uncle Arya and his family okay?’ Omid voiced out one day. Trisha nodded her head to his queries. The young boys still seemed skeptic, but accepted the answer, as there were no others given.

And one day the classes stopped, the children left with nothing more than an empty room, haunting their every move, left with nothing more than fading memories. It would be in the summer of 1906, when their mother was taken away.


End file.
